


A Professional Discussion

by txorakeriak



Category: Real Person Fiction, The Libertine (2004)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-18
Updated: 2015-11-18
Packaged: 2018-05-02 06:39:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5238233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/txorakeriak/pseuds/txorakeriak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An interlude on the set of “The Libertine".</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Professional Discussion

“It  _is_ quite a shame I don't get to kiss you, you know."

There were several reasonable and perfectly innocent ways Jack could have reacted to this. For instance, he could have asked "Whatever for?" With emphasis on _for_ , obviously, because Jack had no idea whatsoever what Johnny would get out of this. (What Jack himself would get out of kissing Johnny was a completely different matter, one he better not ponder in detail. He was a professional, after all. He had professional work to do.) Or, he could have asked "Why me?" That would have been a very good reaction, too.

Instead, however, he had asked "What… now?" Of course he had. And he had regretted his choice the second the words had left his mouth.

Why Johnny's presence still made him nervous and say immensely stupid things, Jack didn't have the slightest clue. One would think that all the time they had spent in each other's company on the set of _Pirates of the Caribbean_ should eventually have helped Jack relax around Johnny, but no. On the contrary: sometimes Jack thought things were getting even worse. It was incredible. Incredibly ridiculous.

As was to be expected, Johnny was staring at him now, which looked rather funny since they were still in costume. Johnny in the silly long wig, brown coat and huge black boots of John Wilmot, 2nd Earl of Rochester, Jack in Harris's long red coat that was getting warmer and more uncomfortable by the second.

“Why no, not now – in the movie!" Johnny finally said, chuckling. "The things you say." A grin was slowly spreading on his face.

Jack was completely mortified at himself. “I'm sorry…“ he stuttered awkwardly, unsuccessfully defeating a blush.

Johnny let out a laugh. "Don't let me mess with you," he said still grinning. "I just didn't xpect _that_ question, is all." He leaned back against the prop wall, careful not to make it topple over.

The director was shouting something from the other side of the room, the cameraman shouted something back. Props were moved, extras called and dismissed again. Nobody seemed to pay the two actors any attention.

"You know," Johnny continued after a while, "I understand that I can’t kiss you in a Disney movie – we wouldn’t want to scare the kids, right? Even though it was blatantly obvious that Captain Jack Sparrow had quite a thing for the Commodore." He winked. “But I’m Lord Rochester, damn it. None of us expects kids to watch that movie – and for the love of ... whoever, dear John Wilmot fucked everything with a heartbeat. I’m bloody _entitled_ to kiss you." Jack swallowed. He certainly didn’t like where this conversation was going. Johnny was hitting too close to home. It wouldn't do to admit that he was preaching to the choir, because that could lead to things. Unprofessional things. Defuse the bomb, Jack, he told himself. Defuse it, before it blows up in your face and you end up blowing… No. _No._

“But," he managed weakly, uttering the first (vaguely reasonable) argument that entered his mind, “you get to kiss Rupert – I mean, I’m sure he’s feeling very honoured and will do his best-“ “Oh, please." Johnny waved his hand. “The guy reminds me way too much of Orlando – or is that just me? He's a fine guy, sure, nice as hell, but…" He made a handwavey gesture. "You know. Too young, too. Besides, Rochester died of syphilis. It's safe to assume he kissed more than just one bloke in his life, and he sure as hell did other things with them too."

“But," Jack started again, trying to ignore how he was basically hyperventilating as he imagined the _other things_ the historical John Wilmot had done, “what about… Cock?" Damn the name and the way he couldn't say it without blushing further in the man's presence. "Why not him? Why me?"

He was way too excited, and it was utterly ludicrous. What was he thinking? What did he expect to happen? It wasn't as if the director acquiesced to Johnny's every request, even though he did refuse him very little. This, however, was mostly due to the fact that Johnny's suggestions were professional and helpful and not borne of a silly crush.

Jack couldn't tell which of them had, in fact, moved, but suddenly Johnny was very close. A faint waft of aftershave hit his nose, mingling with the scent of Johnny's strong cigarillos and the musty smell of the costume and make-up. That was about when his brain stopped functioning entirely. And then Johnny kissed him. His soft, full lips brushed against Jack’s gently at first, then more boldly, like a butterfly flapping its wings against a window. When Johnny started nibbling at his lower lip, Jack started wondering if he was imagining things. This could not really be happening, could it? But if it was a dream, it was an astoundingly realistic one. The kiss felt amazing. Jack couldn't say when he had been kissed with such skill before, setting all his nerves on fire and making him tingle all over.

Honestly, Johnny Depp should not be allowed to walk the earth. The man was a brilliant actor and also a brilliant kisser, gentle but daring at the same time, inviting, welcoming – how should anyone compete with such perfection? And he didn't stop, he just kept going on…

After what was actually a few seconds but felt like an eternity, it was suddenly all over. With a cocky grin, Johnny pulled back and resumed his previous position behind the prop wall. Jack stared at him, incredulous, trying his best to prevent himself from licking his lips.

“You see," Johnny said, as if that explained everything, “that’s why. You feel too bloody good. And it’s a damn shame to keep that from our audience." By then, Jack was probably red as a tomato. He knew he shouldn't read anything into Johnny's words. They were flattering, of course, and immensely so, but this wasn't serious. They were both professionals! He hadn’t come this far by misinterpreting compliments! And he had to say something, something completely innocent and ordinary – maybe return the compliment or make some modest remark – but he couldn’t.

"And what of the other things John Wilmot did?"

Only too late, Jack realized that it had in fact been his own mouth that had just said those words. He could have slapped himself. Would it be too much to ask to keep the embarrassment to a minimum? There should be an official limit to the times one could put one's foot in one's mouth in a day! Good God, he was married - and Johnny was seeing someone, had kids! Jack was no pretty young lad that could afford flirting with Hollywood heartthrobs – and damned good actors, at that. What the devil was he thinking?

Honestly, he was lucky that his fellow actor was a kind guy with a good sense of humour. He would make a joke, let Jack down gently, and be his usual friendly and polite self.

Only, he didn't look too amused. In fact, Johnny looked like he was seriously pondering the question. "The other things?"

Oh yes, Jack was in deep shit.

He tried to come up with a light-hearted comment, a witty remark to break the tension, but he couldn't think of any.

"Of course, it's too early to decide that," Johnny said instead, still serious. “I would need to get to know you a bit better first-“

Jack didn't know if he should laugh or cry. "Oh God, I'm so sorry!" he hurried to say, feeling immensely stupid. "I'm so, so sorry! I have absolutely no idea what came over me. You must excuse- “

"Really, Jack," Johnny said in a playful tone, shaking his head with mock disapproval, "did your mother never teach you to let people finish what they're saying?"

That left Jack at a complete loss for words. What was he supposed to say to that? And why the hell was Johnny still taking this so well? It's not like Jack hadn't made a complete mess of their comfortable professional relationship and acted like an amateur.

Not knowing what else to do, Jack just stood there, his mouth slightly agape and his heart racing like a subway train - yes, he had by now given up getting it back under control. Johnny couldn't be flirting back at him. He simply couldn't.

"What I mean is," the older man continued, as seriously as before, “that you can’t really tell from a person’s appearance - gorgeous though it might be - how they fare between the sheets." His lips curved up in a wicked little smile. “I’d have to ask for a full demonstration first."

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published on 21st-Oct-2005 12:29 am.


End file.
